And They Call Us
by Nephilum-Kat
Summary: You know me. I never finish anything. Ideas. Independant. Part VIII: It is the cycle.
1. Being: Yin

I own naught. Author liberties explain everything. Deliberate.

**Part I:**Being - Yin (HeiYin)

Claw foot. Porcelain. Foam wash. Skin.

This is a Flash Day. Stop action memories and moments of time that are lost, later remembered, sometimes replaid.

Now she is in the bath, a claw foot tub seperate from the shower stall, bubbles spilling over the sides in foam-fluff tendrils. She submerges, pushing _waterbubblefroth_ over the top, down the porcelain and down onto the tile of her second bathroom.

Hei is generous. He works so many jobs.

The tile - Spanish tile Mosaic made to look like stars (_real stars true_) - darkens with water, _trickletricklerolls_ down the gentle incline of the floor, clogging the tarnished iron grate with _snappo_p bubbles and sticky moisture.

_Flashsnap_. Lilac and night.

There is a person with her - still naked, both, and moving, _aboveinsidewith_ her - her eyes drift to the window - night - to his eyes - blue - and her own close.

_Foambubblepop_ (around her toes at the edge). And he is gone.

Replay.


	2. Hello: Hei

Waiting on season 2. Blink&miss November11xHei

**Part II: **Hello - Hei

Sometimes the world he knows tilts - precarious, _precarious_ - and he has to adjust quickly - _faster fastest _- to bullets flying, to people dying, to his sister fall - _fall_ - falling and the changes that come with.

He pretends - _human_ notions, human _faces - _like everyone else does, that everything is "a o-k" perfectly in sync, in time _(don't lose that line now, boy) _that he's dancing the same steps, hearing the same tune, wearing the same mask.

Lies - _permeate, penetrate, shh slide silicone_ - dance on his tongue, in his mind, pour freely from his lips and down, down down, sugar flavored. Coffee coated.

To - _despise, deny, rely, who are _you_ today? - _is not in his nature, preordained, fated, claused. There are no exceptions, only stray bullets.

Himself _(his self, him self, what are you saying smoke weaver?), _thinks, knows (digress) is not a self at all. Humanity is little more than a ghost, and it pulls him to his feet.


	3. Losing: Amber

Read/watching Air Gear. Can you decode the first part? (there is an order.)

**Part III: **Losing - Amber

**A**nd _demons_ we **as** _f_led no

**T**hey _know_ protect **the** _b_eyond one

**C**all _our_ them **gods** _t_he save

**U**s _names_ from **before **_G_ate us

**V**illans _still_ fate **us **_c_an ?

_Miss you miss us?  
Yes, feel miss us miss.  
See you see us future see?  
Find see future see yes find.  
Know no end know future?  
See know future end yes find you.  
Miss you see future find know?  
Yes. Future know._

And all the wo**r**ld for it will b**e** a right, unto thee I do bequeeth **m**y grattitu**e**d, and know that unto thee I place **m**y life.  
Remem**b**er wh**e**re my hea**r**t is, yo**u** have it in your hand**s**.  
**I** hate that my destructio**n** tastes so good.  
No matter who I hear I see **y**ou.  
Y**o**u can recall a time b**u**t not a (**r**ight) place.  
**H**at**e** the f**a**lling sta**r**s like diamonds.  
All **t**he rain falls.  
The  
World at your feet.

_Remember us in your heart._


	4. Commandment: Hei

Slightly AU. Bible references. Assumed.

**Part IV: **Commandment - Hei

_In the Garden lived a Lie,  
Slipery and thin and disguised  
Because not only was it the Devil's own kin,  
But it was made from Mans unknowing accumulated sin._

Rain falls in thunderous sheets across the city, drenching and greying in its purity. Shadows shift restlessly against the black, glowing eyes and shining fangs peeking, glinting, flash-away-dancing in the murky illumination of the street lamps.

Her spector follows him, dancing on raverpuddles and spinning in mistsheets, keeping a water pace with his soaked coat and dripping hair_. One two three_.

He is waiting ahead, four blocks and six left turns away, sitting, sitting, hoping to an abandoned God that his partner has not be taken by the dark_. One two three_.

Smoke floats and then is consumed in the shadow of the building, a flicker of a spark to light the way_. One two three. _


	5. Beginning: Hei

RL sucks. AU. Liberties.

**Part V: Beginning - Hei**

_He's standing, the glass before him cold and unmovable. It stretches on forever.  
He is standing on the other side, too, but... not really.  
Its the counterpart. The DreamWaker.  
Him, how he could be, if he sacreficed his soul to the Quickening.  
White-on-white hair, black-on-black eyes, without scars, without disease, without the worries of a mortal world.  
A Quickener.  
Almost a God.  
The counterpart reaches a hand, perfect, pale like new snow (whiteonwhite) and pushes the glass.  
The dream, the mirror wall (not a mirror a possibility a wall too thin to break) shatters into thousands of tiny shards, cut cut cutting..._

He jerks awake, sweat slicking his skin, gripping his hair to his forehead, his breaths loud in the dark room. He brings a hand to his face and drags down, his skin catching the starlight from crooked quasi-plastic blinds. Paper-thin scars mar his flesh, from fingers to toes, and everything in between.

The only place untouched is his face.

The bathroom tiles are cold against his feet, the water colder still against his face, in his hair. He leans over the sink, spitting blood against the pseudo-marble of the basin. His eyes track up behind his bangs, and he almost (_socloseyetsofar_) screams, the image in the mirror (_whiteonwhiteblackonblackperfect_) not his own.

He blinks, and it is gone, leaving the too blue true eyes and the tannish skin and the scars.

He falls asleep to the sound of the spaceships gentle hum and the echo of falling glass.


	6. Price: Multi

Self-prompts. Yaoi. Almost-wanna-be-bestiality. Smoking and blood. Group sex. Swearing. Kink. In that order. AU. Liberties. **M for mature.**

**Part VI: Price **

_The price of power depends on the person paying._  
_The price of power depends on the power being bought._  
_The price of power depends on what one is willing to pay._  
_More often than not, the price of power is freedom.  
Orders are our contracts._

**I: Penny-copper**

Mao remembers being human. He remembers the feel of fingers, toes, walking upright. But its all a distant memory, a dream, almost-mirage at the back of his mind.

_(Remembers BK-201 bending him over a table in their little apartment, fingers pressed against the scar that ran along his back over his hips, the wood grain pressing back like the dark-haired man (boy really) pressing forward)._

He remembers the feel of humanity in his veins, like dirty coins in his mouth.

**II: Nickel drip**

The first time they fuck it isn't pretty. Fucking, in fact, is probably too light a term, he later reflects. But it wasn't pretty, either way. They bit and fought and there was definite ice-ing and shocking and general dangerous screwery, and there was no designated bottom man until the end of their little fucklovebattle. And he knew he only won because the other man had been injured before hand.

_(deep gash on side press fingers indent blood on palm rub bite shoulder grab member roll pin hand bite neck thrust forward pause he's not breathing ohshitohshit twitch thrust forward deeper still, listen to him _gasp _pull out start the rhythm again, listen to him moan beneath you, press your fingers into that cut, rub his own blood along his organ, stroke in time)_

He pulls out a cigarette and breaths deep, feeling the bruises and bite marks and scratches in his bones.

**III: Dime toss**

The power that ripples over his skin is... exciting, in a dangerous sort of way. Like placing his hand above fire and slowly lowering it, or dodging bullets on a live range. He's the weakest link in this chain, the first to fall in any battle and the last to rise again. Thats why they encompass him in these little trysts. Protection, domination, whatever they call it, to him it's a good, exciting fuck, and he appreciates it in everyway.

He grazes his teeth over a shivering member and smirks as the one in front of him gasps, while the other rhythmically slides through him, again and again and ...

**IV: Quarter Past**

"... what."

"I said I want you to -"

"Ch. I heard what you said. I mean. Why?"

"..."

"Well?"

"Things... there was.. a-a battle. I - I..."

"... want me to fuck you."

"... want you to fuck me. Yes."

"... Well, lets get on with it. I have an appointment at quart to four."

**V: Half-dollar bang**

It's disturbing how _much_ this turns you on. The feather ghosting of that skirt over your thighs, the snap of the garter against your hip (contractors can't grow anything more than facial hair, lucky you), the gentle scratching of the lace at your wrists. The stockings on your legs look sleek in the half light, the wispy smoke curling from the low table incense wrapping wraith-like (_tender, calloused, almost aggressive but never quite_) fingers around your ankles. You adjust your skirt and lean against the wall of the brothel, the memory of your next clients last appointment dripping through your memory.

You wait, your cock half hard in your imitation-silk panties, your arousal not even showing through the overzealous ruffles of your skirt, the multiple layers looking expensive in the cheep light.

And then he takes you, stripping you slowly, leaving your wig in, barely tearing your stockings, ripping through your underwear with his teeth, stripping you to the bare and your platform shoes, the almost-real strands of your blue-black hair twisting around you.

You wake and he is gone, a single note left on your cubicle table, written in elegant black ink.

_Kimono  
- 11_


	7. Peranthium: HeiYin

Self-prompts. Birth. Death. Rebirth. Drums/Dancing/Culture. All drabbles. Pointless. Plotless. In that order. AU - me'kai means nothing, Juhal and Amekai'ai are fictional.

**Part VII: Peranthium**

_And I am running against the wind  
Reaching for your light_

**Birth: **

He will never have children, because in his world, there is no place for precious new life. Of course, he could knock some chick up and leave her, a child and a family wrapped in a bow of hatred and regrets. But he isn't that kind of person. Being left behind isn't his thing.

And the only woman he would trust with his children can't bear them.

**Death: **

Loosing her is like loosing half of himself. She is always, a constant, his.

He burns with her soul in his head, and razes the city to the ground.

**Rebirth: **

Three years later he finds her, grabs her hand, and practically smashes their teeth in his attempt to tear her mouth from her face.

"I missed you Hei."

**Drums/Dancing/Culture: **

The fire traces his arms on its me'kai metal stick, spinning spirals in the darkness. Sparks dance like butterflies at its tips, floating away on tiny whirlwinds. She lifts the water slowly, like kneading bread, and they act out the battle of Juhal and his sister Amekai'ai with the accuracy obtained by those who had been their.

The mortal villagers don't know the difference anyway.


	8. Lupelim: HeiYin

Self-prompts. Elements. AU. Yuri. Yaoi. Het. Not in that order. Liberties. Firestarter influences. No offence to anybody. **IF YOU ARE OFFENDED KNOW NOW THAT I HAVE WARNED YOU IN BOLD AND CAPITALIZED LETTERS AND THAT IF YOU DO NOT WISH TO BE POSSIBLY INSULTED SKIP FIGMENT "TEMPEST" AND BE ON YOUR WAY. THANK YOU. **OOCness.

**Part VIII: Lupelim**

**Fire:**

Sometimes, when he isn't paying attention and lets his emotions slide (pain, anger, hatred, passion), a little spark starts in the farthest corner of his house, where the "incident" occurred, and he has to rush to save it. It's always the same corner, and, after a few months, he learned to move all furniture of value away.

**Wave:**

She moves the water with her fingers, shaping, forming, rolling it with feather light touches. In the distance the ocean rumbled, responding absently to the tendrils of power she had shot about the city.

**Breeze:**

Only the wind shapes them, changes them. But it is never a power wind, never manipulated by a similar user of age, or rank, or looks. It's the wind of time, pulling them forward, in all directions and none.

**Soil:**

They dig their fingers into the ground, pushing their elements into the earth and forcing upward. Earth had always been hardest to mold, especially as a secondary element. But the tiny pebbles of metal shook themselves from the dirt nonetheless, the fire bringing them together, the water keeping them consistent and solid.

**Ash:**

The city is in terrible ruin. The buildings are gone. The river through its center dry, the crow-picked carcasses of dead fish and other aquatic life rotting in the sun. And still, they reminisce, the place bears them a home.

**Puddle:**

She found him, initially, in a vary large, obviously manipulated, puddle. He had been soaked, wounded and bloody, and above all, unable to use his powers. She had, out of the graciousness of her totally iron heart, lifted the puddle, and him, and toted him back the way she had come, right to her house, where she dumped him ungraciously on the porch and wrung the water from him with viscous determination.

**Tempest:**

He has never cared for wind users. They were often soft, green-peace humanitarians that smoked hookah and had backwards ways for fighting, when they decided to get off their lazy asses at all. But this one, this one annoyed him beyond compare. So he slaughtered him, and trekked back to the house smattered with blood and whistling merrily.

**Mud:**

When their enemies fall into the mud and gurgled through sediment and rain and their own blood, Yin deigns to think that maybe she might be bored with this entire affair. Being Quickeners (god, goddess, roll of thunder) is boring, tiresome work, keeping a planet full of loony power-frackers in check. All fall before them, all will fall after. It is an endless cycle. It is the mud.


End file.
